Posts Tagged ‘randomness’

miss pennsylvania.

June 7, 2010

If I was in the Miss America pageant (which, at this time, hell would have also frozen over and pigs would be flying) and in the interview portion I was asked about my “wish for the world”, without hesitation, I would reply that I wish that everyone on Earth could have an amazingly satisfying, no strings attached, drama free booty call.  Forget about ending AIDS and world hunger for a minute, don’t you think the world would be a better and happier place?

Think about it.

There are no expectations.  No need to buy birthday gifts.  No family function obligations.  Just unadulterated unclothed sexual bliss and instant stress relief.  For this reason, I’m willing to bet that Hitler and Stalin weren’t getting laid on the regular.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m a classy girl.  I don’t bring strangers home from the bar (well, ok, maybe ONCE), but I’ve never had a one night stand.  Even that awkward night with the stranger turned into a couple of dates.  I used to have a backlog of potential booty calls : shoo-ins that I could call up for some “drinks”, both of us certain what the result at the end of the night would be.  Some are old boyfriends, some are pretty good guy friends that I like to see naked every now and then, and I’d love to keep it that way.

For some reason, I feel good about “recycling” men from previous segments of my life.  Hey, my “number” doesn’t go up and I feel like I’m doing something good for the environment.  (Go Green!)

The problem is, my booty call Rolodex is drying up.  A few have gotten girlfriends (or wives), a few have moved away, and one has inexplicably dropped off the face of the Earth.  Even in it’s most perfect form, this whole arrangement is kind of a slippery slope.  I do not tolerate 2am texts from boys looking to “hang out”.  It’s only fun when I am the one calling the shots and each rendezvous is on MY terms.  Selfish?  Maybe.  But, there’s something really sexy about being in control like this.

Currently taking applications,

Q

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like a homeless dude to a crack pipe.

June 4, 2010

I have a confession to make… I’m an addict.

No, don’t worry.  It’s not drugs or alcohol, or even sex (well ok… maybe sex?).  There’s one little thing that can draw me in like a bee to honey – I’m addicted to buying pretty sundresses. (*GASP*)

There, I said it.

I know what you’re thinking: “But Q, you have a closet FULL of sundresses.  There’s really no need to buy more.”  and you would be right.  There is absolutely no need.  I own one (or several) in just about every color Roy G. Biv has to offer.

Now, I’ve never been much of a girly girl.  I don’t broadcast news of my periods or love Nicholas Sparks movies.  I like punk rock and PBR’s, but I just can’t help myself.  I’m a sucker for soft material, lovely colors, and a short hemline. When I wander into a store, I’m not even thinking about satisfying my “fix”, then my eyes wander over the selection and I see it.  Sticking out like a whore in church, it calls to me. (Cue the angelic choir music).

I’m sorry, but there’s just something awesome about it being all breezy and al fresco “down there” on a hot day.  And better yet, for us relatively style-deprived broads, it’s a FULL outfit in one piece of clothing.  What could be easier?

So, I’ll see you at the Gap in an hour?

Q

two times the awkwardness.

June 3, 2010

Palms sweaty, heart beating a little bit, you make your way to your pre-arranged meeting spot.  You check for spinach in your teeth, put your best face forward, and awkwardly suffer through the new few hours, tell yourself that you had a good time, and leave praying for a call back.

Sound familiar…?

Is this a date…? or a job interview? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

As a single girl that’s ALSO looking for a new job, I feel like I’ve had enough stress and awkward situations to last the average person 12 lifetimes.

Having just left yet another job interview that will undoubtedly pan out to nothing (due to a lousy HR director that failed to screen for compatible salaries), the similarities to dating and job hunting nearly smacked me in the face.  It’s like this never-ending cycle.

Everyone’s faking it at first, wanting to be liked.  Then the one YOU actually like wont call you back and the one that is all about you doesn’t pay enough or has poor hygiene and those ungodly bright colored sneakers (you know, the ones that look like they were thrown up on by a box of crayola crayons).  What’s worse, one of you will likely wind up bored with the relationship or career in a year or two and the cycle begins again.

But the sad part is, there’s nothing you can really do about it.  It’s all part of the game, my friend.  As cheesy as it sounds, you gotta keep putting yourself out there, and keep sipping that proverbial porridge until you find the one that’s the perfect fit.

So for now, you can call me “Goldilocks”,

Q

why my dog has a sense of humor.

May 13, 2010

I have been enjoying my dog’s hilarious ability to pick the most random and unsettling objects to poop on.  I think he gets some pleasure out of making it increasingly difficult (and unpleasant) for me to pick up his poo.

My personal favorites thus far:

1.  A thorny bush (“try sticking your hand in that!”)

2. A dead squirrel (which I didn’t notice until I was bent down and my hand was very sickeningly close to said dead squirrel.  ew.)

3.  Three foot high weeds.  I couldn’t even FIND the poop when he was done, let alone actually get down there to pick it up.

OR, are dogs capable of plotting an elaborate plan for revenge?  I wonder if this has something to do with the reindeer antlers that I forced him to wear last Christmas…

** This is my first post in the great big Internet World, and it is about Poop.  Just a taste of the many highly intelligent, awesome things to come out of my mouth (er- fingers?) for as long as I actually decide to keep up with this.

(I briefly considered doing an “about me” introduction thing, but then I thought more about it… and the more I thought about that, the more that sounded stupid.)

So, there you have it.  I chuckle at poop.

Fondly-

Q

(Can't you sense his misery?)